


Dinner Dilemma

by positivelystisaac



Series: Christmas Series [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Holidays, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:04:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positivelystisaac/pseuds/positivelystisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles plans on cooking the perfect Christmas dinner- until Isaac gets in the way, that is. </p><p>Filled prompt/one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Dilemma

Stiles walks in the door, arms loaded down with brown grocery bags, filled to the brim. “Isaac?” he calls, kicking the door closed and somehow managing to set down his keys without dropping anything. He loves the feel of their apartment at Christmastime- the way the small white lights on their tiny tree still manage to light up the room and the way they burn a ton of different candles at once. Isaac fought him at first on the candles, arguing that the plethora of different scents would fight until the apartment smelled “like elf vomit.”

Naturally, Stiles was able to convince him to put them out, and was delighted when they discovered he was right- the apartment smelled great. Like pine needles, fresh cookies and peppermint all at once. 

"Hey," Isaac says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping his hands on his jeans. He presses a quick kiss to Stiles’s lips before taking one of the bags from him and heading back towards the kitchen. "So I just put the rolls in the oven, but we still have to do everything else," he tells Stiles as they unload the bags. 

"Isaac, are you kidding? You always do the rolls last!" Stiles’ eyes are wide as he looks up from the groceries. 

"What? Why?" Isaac doesn’t see anything wrong with doing the rolls first. Everything has to get done eventually, right? 

Stiles makes a sound of frustration. “They literally take twelve minutes to bake. The ham is going to take upwards of three hours. Common sense, Isaac,” he says. Isaac shrugs. He still doesn’t see what the big deal is. “The rolls have to be warm when they’re served. There’s no point in eating it if it’s not going to be warm and buttery and flaky and fall apart in your mouth. Come on Isaac, everyone knows that,” Stiles says, unwrapping the ham and searching for the right pan.

"Okay, sorry! I don’t remember Christmas dinners back when I had them!" Isaac argues. Instantly, Stiles feels bad. He didn’t mean to get Isaac thinking about his family.

"It’s okay, I’m sorry. I’m sure they’ll be great," he assures Isaac, who smiles. "Even if they’re colder than Derek’s heart," he adds. Isaac rolls his eyes, handing Stiles the pan he was looking for. 

They get the ham fixed to be baked pretty quickly, and Isaac moves it into the oven while Stiles starts peeling the potatoes. “How are the rolls?” Stiles asks, craning his neck to try to see into the oven. 

"Not done," Isaac says, looking at the rolls. Weird, they look like they’ve barely cooked at all. He shrugs, closing the oven door and joining Stiles at the counter. Just then, the phone starts ringing. Isaac moves to answer it, but Stiles stops him.

"No, I need your help! Let the machine get it."

‘Hi, this is Isaac and Stiles. You missed us, but leave us a message and we’ll get back to you!’ after the beep, Scott’s voice fills the room. 

"Hey guys. So Allison’s dad wants us to stop by before we head over to your place. We need an excuse to not stay long, so we’ll be there a little earlier, probably before six. So yeah, see you then. Merry Christmas!"

Stiles exhales slowly, closing his eyes. “Awesome. We really need to hustle now,” he says to Isaac before grabbing a knife to cut the potatoes.

"What time is everyone else coming?" Isaac asks, setting down the peeler and walking up behind Stiles. He knows Stiles means well, and he just wants everything to be perfect. But, the kitchen is not Isaac’s calling, and Stiles knows that. Still, Isaac finds it kind of adorable that Stiles demanded Isaac help. ("It’s Christmas, Isaac! You have to help me cook!”) It’s one of those things Isaac did anyway, just to make Stiles happy. 

"I told everyone else six thirty. But they had better be here by seven if they want a hot meal," Stiles says. Isaac laughs, placing his arms on the counter on either side of Stiles’ hips. 

"Relax, Martha Stewart. I’m sure it will be fine," he says, leaning down to kiss Stiles’ neck slowly. 

"Isaac," Stiles warns. "I am on my last nerve and I’m holding a knife. Is this really the best time?" 

"Yes," Isaac murmurs, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist. "You need to relax."

"Isaac," Stiles tries. But, he can’t stop the shiver from going down his spine as Isaac’s fingers push his shirt up a little. 

"Stiles," Isaac mocks, switching to the other side of his neck. "Relax."

"Okay, okay. I mean…the ham is in, the rolls are going to be done soon, and the potatoes won’t take too long. I guess I can-"  
Isaac cuts him off, turning him around so they’re face to face. Pulling Stiles closer, he kisses him deeply. The tension in Stiles’ shoulders subsides almost instantly as he relaxes into Isaac, moving his hands up to his hair. He tangles his fingers in Isaac’s hair and deepens the kiss. 

Moving his hands down to Isaac’s neck, Stiles walks forward, pushing Isaac backwards across the kitchen and into the living room before breaking apart their lips long enough to push him onto the couch. Isaac sits, pulling Stiles down on top of him and pressing their lips back together hungrily. Stiles straddles Isaac’s lap, grinding into him as he gets closer. 

Isaac pulls of his shirt as Stiles gets rid of his own. Isaac moans as Stiles presses kisses down his jaw and onto the hollow of his neck. He grabs Stiles by the hips and shifts in one quick motion so he’s laying on top of him, Stiles running his hands over Isaac’s bare back. Isaac tugs at Stiles’ hair, moving their lips back together. 

Suddenly, Stiles pulls away, breathing heavily. “You okay?” Isaac asks, propping himself up on his elbows and shaking the hair from his eyes. 

"The rolls," Stiles says, hand on Isaac’s chest. Isaac groans, rolling off of Stiles and sitting up. He reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head as he stands up. He tosses Stiles his shirt, sighing in frustration. 

"Listen, Stiles-" Isaac begins, following him into the kitchen. "I know you want this to-"

"YOU NEVER TURNED ON THE OVEN?!" Stiles all but shrieks. So that’s why the rolls didn’t seem to be cooking- because they weren’t. It was an honest mistake, but with Stiles in the state he’s in, Isaac chooses his next words carefully. 

"Well, I-" Well, what’s he supposed to say? That he’s a fucking idiot who’s ever cooked anything of substance in his entire life? That he wouldn’t have even know how the hell to turn the oven on even if he tried to do it? That he really didn’t care about how great Christmas dinner was? That all that mattered to him was waking up next to Stiles on Christmas morning?

"I just want this to be perfect," Stiles says quietly, pulling the food out of the oven and turning it on. "Christmas was my mom’s day. She lived for Christmas, especially Christmas dinner. We always had huge meals with all the extended family, and it was her favorite day of the year. And I figured that now that we’re kind of all on our own, we should just come together for Christmas dinner because really, except for my dad, you guys are the only family I have and Christmas is a time for family. And if I want a Christmas dinner, I will get a fucking Christmas dinner! You guys get to be werewolves, I should at least get glazed ham and scalloped potatoes and warm rolls!” Stiles shouts. 

Isaac steps closer, wrapping his arms around Stiles and pulling him to his chest. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you want it to be perfect, and I want it to be perfect for you. But you gotta pull the stick out,”

"Isaac!" Stiles laughs. 

"I’m serious!" Isaac argues, laughing along with Stiles. "Stop bitching! It will be perfect, and if it’s not, we’ll all pretend like it is."

"Okay. I’ll take it."

"Plus, the bright side to the oven not being on is that now you can have warm rolls," Isaac points out. Stiles grins, stepping out of Isaac’s arms and picking up the knife off the counter. He starts to cut the potatoes again before turning to Isaac.

"Think you can set the table without screwing anything up too much?" he asks. 

Isaac shrugs. “No promises, but it’s worth a shot.” He pulls out the plates from the cabinet, but Stiles stops him. 

"Are you kidding me? Use the good china under the counter! And the nice tablecloth, too," Stiles says as he watches Isaac. 

"Yes, Martha."


End file.
